President Barack Obama, speaking here in the Rose Garden of the White House on Thursday, March 29, 2012, is caught in an election bind on gay marriage, wedged between the pressure of supporters who want him to back same-sex marriage and the political peril of igniting an explosive social issue at the onset of his reelection campaign. (AP Photo/Charles Dharapak)

Barack Obama has arguably done more than any other president for the gay community. He was proactive on repealing prohibitions on gays and lesbians serving openly in the armed forces, and last year his administration announced it wouldn’t defend in court the Defense of Marriage Act, a federal law banning the recognition of same-sex marriages. These actions make his reluctance to lead on marriage equality and an executive order on workplace protections for gay and transgender Americans all the more frustrating for activists. Pollsters think he’s worried what voters will think if he comes out fully in support of marriage equality, but it’s questionable whether this would really hurt his re-election chances.

Yet another political backdrop to all this palaver over gay marriage is today’s (Tuesday’s) ballot initiative in North Carolina that could ban gay marriage in the Tar Heel state. President Obama opposes the initiative, arguing it’s unfair to enact state constitutional provisions that enshrine discrimination into law. Still, the president has avoided offering a full-throated support of gay marriage.

Even though a black family lives in the White House, hardly anyone seriously argues that we live in a postracial society. That aspirational description of 21st century America came into vogue about four years ago, as President Barack Obama raced to victory in the 2008 presidential election, and a great number of black and white Americans wanted to believe the nation was finally closing the books on its discriminatory history.

But no. President Obama’s election didn’t suddenly sweep away all the accumulated consequences of past racism in our society. The preexisting racial disparities, so engrained in the fabric of our economy and culture, didn’t erase themselves in the wake of his victory.

As my Progress 2050 colleagues Christian E. Weller, Julie Ajinkya, and Jane Farrell make regrettably clear in their recently released report, “The State of Communities of Color in the U.S. Economy: Still Feeling the Pain Three Years Into Recovery,” racial and ethnic minority groups aren’t living in a paradise free of racial disadvantage. Quite the contrary, their research demonstrates that people of color aren’t benefiting apace with white Americans as our nation gradually rebounds from the financial collapse and economic recession that gripped us all when President Obama took office (more…)

New Haven, Conn. firefighter Ben Vargas testifies on Capitol Hill in Washington, on July 16, 2009, before the Senate Judiciary Committee confirmation hearing for Supreme Court nominee Sonia Sotomayor. U.S. Commissioner on Civil Rights Commissioner Peter Kirsanow is at right. Vargas and other firefighters in New Haven were plaintiffs in Ricci vs. DeStefano, the reverse discrimination lawsuit that was overturned by the Supreme Court in their favor. Sotomayor was the appellate judge who originally ruled against them. (Photo: AP/Charles Dharapak)

For all intents and purposes, affirmative action is dead.

One could argue, as television pundit Juan Williams has, that affirmative action died three years ago with the Supreme Court’s 5-4 decision in Ricci v. DeStefano, a ruling that affirmed white firefighters’ claims that they were victims of reverse discrimination in the city of New Haven, Connecticut. After these firefighters passed a promotions test, city officials invalidated the test results because no black applicants passed, allowing the white applicants legal standing to claim they were mistreated. With that ruling, the conservative Court, under Chief Justice John Roberts, signed affirmative action’s death certificate.

Of course, some believe there’s life still in the corpse. Later this year, the Supreme Court will take up Fisher v. University of Texas, a case that challenges whether applicants’ race can be used as a factor in granting admission in an effort to diversify the student body. But it’s entirely possible the Court will rule against Texas, effectively sealing the coffin shut.

Even if that happens, however, affirmative action could live on as colleges and employers find ways to continue promoting diversity. In fact, that’s exactly what’s beginning to happen, and it’s absolutely necessary given our nation’s demographic changes. (more…)

Trayvon Martin, who was shot to death last month, posed for the undated family photo. George Zimmerman, 28, remains out of police custody despite admitting to the shooting of the 17-year-old, unarmed high school student. Authorities haven't arrested Zimmerman, citing a Florida state law that allows people to defend themselves with deadly force. Such an argument has prompted some community leaders to bemoan "white privilege" when a black life is taken. (AP Photo/Martin Family)

When a young American teenager, Trayvon Martin, was gunned down for walking while being black in a diverse suburban community, the first thing many of us wanted to know was the race of the guy who pulled the trigger. That man, George Zimmerman, was described as white by the media and Latino by his father. But why does it matter?

Far from the crime scene in Sanford, Florida, two Boston-area educators offered an explanation last weekend during a workshop on “Transforming Whiteness” at the Kirwan Institute conference on race in Columbus, Ohio. Susan Naimark and Paul Madden didn’t mention the Martin case but instead posed a broad and open-ended question to the interracial audience of progressive academics, social activists, and community organizers that could well resonate in the coming federal investigation of the shooting: “What comes to mind when you hear the phrase ‘white culture?’”

Dare, if you will, to engage in a conversation about race in most places in our country and the issue at hand will likely revolve around the status of black Americans. Perhaps in the fastest-growing parts of the nation, the topic may include concern about the increasing presence and plight of Latinos. Almost instinctively, Americans know and recognize “other” cultures, which are typically described with dark and foreboding adjectives.

Class stratification on college campuses may well be an immutable barrier that increasingly divides affluent students from their less-well off classmates, threatening the long-cherished ideal that a college education serves as the great equalizer of society. (Photo: AP/Reed Saxon)

Jourdan Shepard, a student at Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia, created a lively blogosphere debate with his online post decrying elitism and “classism” at his historically black and male college. His insights speak volumes about the changing nature of student divisions on college campuses, from racial divides to income divides—though of course it isn’t as tidy a division since we’re speaking, after all, about American college campuses.

“Every August, a new freshman class walks through the gates of the school and into the campus gymnasium only to have their older brothers try to transform them into Black elitists,” Shepard wrote late in 2011 as the Morehouse correspondent for newsone.com, an online aggregator of news targeted at black Americans. “Yes, Morehouse does tell their freshmen what is expected, but the bravado has seemed to overshadow the greater good. This is a problem.”

What drew Shepard’s ire is the sense of elitism and entitlement among a certain group of students strutting across his campus green. According to a growing body of scholarly literature, class stratification on college campuses may well be an immutable barrier that increasingly divides affluent students from their less well-off classmates, threatening the long-cherished ideal that a college education is the great equalizer of society.

Even as college campuses herald their efforts to lower racial barriers—especially at the most elite, predominantly white colleges—some observers note that economic disparities among college students is creating a situation where affluent students have one experience and poor students have an entirely different one. As Shepard noted, income disparities among students undermine the purpose of a college degree, which he defines as a tool “to develop the individual and help the community, rather than embracing a superficial identity that degrades one another.” (more…)

Thousands of activists from across the nation join arms and march across the Edumnd Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama on Sunday, March 4, 2012, 47 years after the historic march that spurred Congress to pass and enact the Voting Rights Act. (Photo: AP/Kevin Glackmeyer)

Forty-seven years ago this past Sunday an interracial contingent of some 600 civil rights activists attempted to cross the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma, Alabama. They failed. Alabama state troopers and local police officers, upholding the racist laws of that time and place, met the peaceful marchers on the bridge with the brutal force of billy clubs, attack dogs, and tear gas.

It took two more marches—a second effort two days later saw 2,500 marchers crossing the bridge and turning around and a third march had the federal protection of 2,000 soldiers and 1,900 National Guard members—for the civil rights activists to finally succeed in their journey from Selma to Montgomery, the Alabama state capitol.

Marking how much life in America has changed, there’s a website today promoting something called the Bridge Crossing Jubilee. Set against a stark-black background and underneath the photo of a gray-haired black man holding Old Glory at the foot of the iconic bridge, the website’s home page explains its welcoming purpose:

The Annual Bridge Crossing Jubilee is held the first full weekend of every March to commemorate “Bloody Sunday,” the March from Selma-to-Montgomery, and the passing of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. In addition, the Jubilee is the celebration and commemoration of the right to vote and March from Selma to Montgomery… We look forward to seeing you at this year’s Jubilee.

Jeremy Lin came out of nowhere to turn the New York Knicks' season around, but the conversation about his unlikely rise to fame has often included a racial component. (Photo: AP/Kathy Knomicek)

(Disclaimer: I know this space is typically reserved for matters of serious report, like politics and, well, more politics. Rest assured I’ll return to politics soon enough. And for my faithful readers who know nothing of sports save the ins and outs of the presidential horserace or the ups and downs of congressional polling statistics, bear with me because you’re going to learn something very important about the character of our nation that politicians are unlikely to share with you.)

Linsanity has overtaken almost everyone I’ve spoken with during the past week.

In the incredible case you’ve escaped it, Linsanity refers to the global obsession–or craze–with Jeremy Lin, the professional basketball player whose play for the erstwhile forlorn New York Knicks has set everyone atwitter with his out-of-nowhere story. He was the star of his state-champion high school team in Palo Alto, California, but wasn’t highly recruited to play college ball. Instead of accepting a walk-on role, he enrolled at Harvard, a school better known for brains than brawn. He excelled in the classroom and on the court, but after graduation was overlooked by NBA scouts.

Surprisingly, to me, I’m no exception to the Linsanity madness. I love college basketball, but generally yawn when it comes to the professional game. But I’ll admit that I’ve succumbed and can’t get enough of the guy. Or his amazing story.

Unfortunately, all this celebrity carries a racial edge to it, which is the part that fascinates me most. (more…)